


The Well

by Infini



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, Drabble, Gen, Just angst, Spoilers, The Author just watched Predacons Rising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:30:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infini/pseuds/Infini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Prime bids farewell to a comrade, leader, and friend.</p><p>Goodbyes are the hardest part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Well

**Author's Note:**

> Watched Predacons Rising. Had horrible, horrible feelings. Wrote this so I could sleep.  
> Unedited, and unbeta'd.

They stood in silence, watching the fountain of light as it wheeled and twisted, seemingly without end. Bright sparks broke away from the main column to shoot across the darkening sky like meteors, their rainbow of colours adding a new dimension to the stars beginning their winking vigil.

Without exception, it was the most beautiful thing any among them had ever seen.

Reality filtered back slowly, at different times for different mechs. Apparently Knock Out was the first, as no one saw or heard him leave, though there were tire-tracks in the dust to indicate that he’d driven off in his alt-mode.

Wheeljack was next, gently patting Bulkhead on the arm and making a slight motion with his helm in the direction of the makeshift Autobot base. There was work to be done, construction to be continued, not to mention a ship with a mangled engine that required some serious assistance. The dark green warrior nodded his silent assent, but paused to watch for a few moments longer before slowly following his friend.

Arcee shuttered her optics, placing a hand over her spark for a few moments before she turned her back on the scene. Old grief would not make the new any easier to bear, and she knew she would not find solace in watching a towering funeral pyre.

Bumblebee and Smokescreen looked to each other simultaneously before glancing around, taking note of their dwindling numbers. A black arm was swung across blue shoulders and they both retreated, normally conversational voices kept silent until well beyond auditory range. It seemed wrong to break the calm with the sound of life continuing on, even if that was exactly what this great light represented.

Ultra Magnus shifted slightly, taking half a step forward to rest his good hand on the medic’s shoulder. He did so without looking down from the sight overhead, uncertain as to whether it might be disrespectful to his leader, his comrade… his friend. Optimus had urged them to continue on, to restore peace, to bring Cybertron out of its dark history and into a new age. These sparks were the physical manifestation of that hope: the planet literally breathing new life into itself. It was up to them to honour both that final wish, and the home they had fought and given so much for. There was much behind them, and much still to be done. With a slight squeeze of that hand, he strode away to plan for a new day.

Then there was one.

Ratchet had not spoken, not moved, not blinked since the first sparks had soared into the sky. Here, then, was the beginning. And the end. He watched the bright lights, the colours that whirled and danced, and felt no elation. His spark had sunk deep below the surface of Cybertron, down into the Well to the center of the planet. To become one with the core, and Primus himself.

He was alone when he stood, and alone when he fell, aging knees protesting as the bulk of his frame crashed down onto them. The medic paid no heed to his joints, or to his hands as they reached the ground next, taking the weight of his torso as he caught himself. Vents hitched from the slight wisps of dust raised by the impact, eliciting one cough, and then another, until his chassis shook with choking gasps.

There was no clear indication when the coughing stopped. It blended into the sobs, the wailing cries, the screams, the beating of fists against the planet’s unforgiving surface, and finally the return of silence.


End file.
